I didn't use any of the requirements because I'd already done that on the first version and we all know the part II is never as good as the first anyway.
Then he dropped to the floor, silent. She bent down his frame with closed eyes to check his pulse. Relieved he was alive she performed a battle inspected for any broken bones or cuts. She saw nothing so she slapped Andrew to wake him up. His mouth fidgeted and rage filled up Ariadne as he started to laugh. Her right hand reached out and she grabbed the red peep-toe shoe and raised it above her head. Andrew batted it away but she managed to elbow him near his testicles. He writhed around on the floor.
She got up and left the house to pace on the front lawn. She hated him. He was such an idiot and she would kill him. It was all a matter of time. She stewed over how much she hated him and how she would kill him when she remember the carpet. Her brow furrowed as the scent wafted into her nose even though she’d left the house. That was blood, real blood.
The front door opened with, “I’m sorry for being an ass.” She squinted as his tone. It was deeper and his gaze… She went to her car without accepting the apology and drove back to her home. He followed her, the entire way. She thought for sure after she did a few evasive maneuvers that he would take the hint. She didn’t want to see him.
At the old Victorian house she parked in the drive. He placed his car right behind her. She rolled her eyes and went for her door. She opened it and turned on the hall light, feeling the stillness since her dog had died. She looked up and there he was with those light brown—almost gold—eyes. The flickered, at least it looked like it.
“I’m done with you, Andrew.”
“I’m sorry,” he sounded hoarse. “Invite me in,” he demanded. She narrowed her eyes. He was staying at the house. He shouldn’t need an invite.
“No.” They didn’t move. She stayed the same amount of angry. He gave her the same intense look.
“It lets me know you don’t hate me,” he finally spoke. She shrugged and rolled her eyes.
“Fine,” she spat out and turned around. She stopped midstride, “What happened to Lola.”
“How did you get real blood for the carpet?”
“I have my sources,” he announced behind her. She would have taken her jacket off but even in the house she felt cold. At the door to her rooms he spoke again. “I want to come in.”
“No. I thought I made myself clear the night you implied you wanted me because I look like Zie.” Her bottom teeth worked against her top row. In the low lighting his eyes looked like they glowed. She’d always thought his eyes creepy, like piss holes in the snow (as a German exchange student used to say when he was referring to someone drunk).
“Zie matters not.” The sentence didn’t come off as normal. He leaned in and she swore she could see his breath. Goose bumps erupted on her body and she shivered slightly but her face stayed strong. “You are stronger than the show girl. You resist even though you want more.”
“Andrew, go away before I hurt you.” His eyes ran over her.
“Don’t call me Andrew,” he almost sounded like she had when she said not to come into the room. “Your darkness I can feed off of.”
Ariadne slammed the door to her room and locked it. He beat his fists on the door and her mind… nothing made sense.
~Raging and quivering female mass of hormones and tosser of Dark Side Cookies™ (trade marked by Etoile)